


Anger

by the_frosty_doctor



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anger, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt, Killer Frost isn't separate, Panic Attacks, is there a term for panic attack but strong emotions?, strong emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_frosty_doctor/pseuds/the_frosty_doctor
Summary: Caitlin struggles with the aftermath of being Killer Frost and her emotions. Takes place at the end of 4x01.





	Anger

“Don’t make me frosty.”

She could feel her anger rising, like it was a cold ocean wave ripping through her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her shoulder ached being held so harshly, but every breath she took hurt more.

Her nails dug into her palms as she tried to quell the anger, the panic, but with her clenched jaw and swirling thoughts, it was like trying to stand her ground in the middle of a raging storm.

Then, her vision shifted, so quick she felt dizzy. The normal colours changed to bright oranges and yellows, her legs and free arm being the only hint of blue. Faintly, she remembered Cisco lecturing her on the importance of thermal technology.

Then, the anger took over, like a tsunami crashing into land and taking every living thing with it.

She could hardly breathe as she twisted around, grabbed Amunet’s henchman by his neck and slammed him into the pinball machine.

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m frosty.” Her chest is so tight it feels like she’s going to burst, it feels like the anger has filled every nerve and vein in her body.

There’s a pale hand on the henchman’s face, one she vaguely recognizes as her own as a thick frost spreads on his forehead and she can feel the heat from him shooting up her arm.

The next few seconds are a blur, but she remembers her own voice, cold and disembodied, threatening the henchman. She sees her cold and too pale hand reaching towards a customers beer and she touches it, ice swirls around the drink in an instant, leaving a dripping thick fog.

Then the cool air of the alley hits her. There’s a moment of clarity, then the anger surges.

“Time to have some fun.” Her voice sounds faraway, like she's disconnecting from herself. 

No.

**No!**

The next minute feels like forever as she straddles the line between that spiralling, dark anger, and struggling to not give in. It feels like she’s being dragged down into a black endless pit and she’s scrambling at the lead trying to find her bearing, anything that will allow her grab and hold on and pray that these emotions will pass, that they will fade, or that she can breathe and push them far, far away.

_“Stop it!"_ She's yelling at herself, the thought rattling around in her mind.

_"_ _I don’t want go down that path again!”_

Just let her hold on.

_“Why not? God feels no pain, remember? And you’ve caused a lot.”_

Just hold on.

_“I’m not giving in, what about my friends? What about me?”_

Please.

_“You know they don’t care. You brought this mess upon yourself.”_

She’s slipping. Do they? Did she?

She remembers the cold steel pressing into her neck, the stoney eyes that felt like they were staring into her soul, poking and prodding at the soul of Caitlin Snow, the person she was trying to forget then, of the loss and betrayal in the eyes of her teammates and friends, and finally the sorrow as she turned away from them, and the death that she had caused and felt like she had just lost herself.

_“No! I didn’t go through all of that just to head back down that path.”_

There’s a beat of silence. Of nothing.

She might have blacked out.

When she finally comes to from her panic-filled dissociation trip, she realizes she’s leaning heavily against a barred gate in the alleyway, the bars digging into her face as well as her hands that are tightly wrapped around them. Her head is pounding, her knees feel like they’re about to give out, and she’s shaking. Whether from the cold, fear, or being exhausted, she isn’t sure.

But she can finally breathe.


End file.
